


Starcrossed

by Dreamer_of_Improbable_Dreams



Category: Supernatural
Genre: A/B/O, AU, Alpha Sam, Alpha/Beta/Omega Dynamics, Future AU, Human Dean, M/M, MOC au, Mark of Cain, Multiple Personalities, Reincarnation, Reincarnation AU, Science Fiction, Soft sci-fi ABO, Soulmate AU, Soulmate marks, Soulmates, Space AU, referenced noncon, scifi, soul marks, space travel
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-12-29
Updated: 2018-01-08
Packaged: 2019-02-23 08:41:56
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 3,751
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13186464
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Dreamer_of_Improbable_Dreams/pseuds/Dreamer_of_Improbable_Dreams
Summary: Far in a distant future, Sam is a captain of a space craft making the journey into the edges of space, searching for something thats haunted him all his life.A draw, a pull, that drags him from the comfort of Earth Origina, to the emptiness at the edge of the known universe.A thousand years before, a man named Dean Winchester makes a bargain with Death to be cast into the emptiness of space to protect the world from the Mark of Cain.But not even Death can cut the bonds of soulmates, and Sam discovers something drifting in the emptiness.Dean awakens broken and scattered and lost in a future he can't understand, with a man he can't reconcile as his brother's soul reborn.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> I decided to post this, despite its unfinished state (and horrific lack of capitalization. for some reason my laptop doesn't capitalize anymore) because its been a while. And the Wincest tag on ao3 has been pretty thin lately. A couple of years ago there was way more being produced. Lots of shorts and oneshots and general goodness. And I had this lurking away on my harddrive so I thought "What the hell, I'm here and its the christmas holidays. Lets have some variety!"   
> I really hope this inspires someone to write something new, and weird, even if you're not sure. Or post something you've had kicking around in your folders.   
> As always, please feel welcome to badger me with questions or remarks, or even suggestions for what should happen next in the story.

the stars are a drifting field around them. the silence and vastness of space swallowing up everything around them, a thousand years from anything.   
they are all travellers, kept sane in infinity by the stories of the past. by the beauty of the stars and nebula that surround them.  
they dream of the new world they are going to.  
a new planet, earth far behind.   
they tell him it has seven moons.

but Sam doesn't dream of alien planets, or stars, or many moons hanging in the sky.  
he wakes in his sleep pod every day cycle with dreams of green eyes and an emptiness inside.  
he's always felt empty, alone, missing a piece.  
like theres a thread pulling him.  
he followed it all the way to the edge of the settled universe.   
chasing the pull, the ache that at first he thought was for the stars. tracing constellations older then concept. launched himself into the darkness to sate the pull. but it only made it stronger. the further into the dark reaches of space he traveled, the stronger the thread pulls.   
the dreams of green eyes and deep voice pour into his sleeping mind.   
he's always dreamed strange dreams.  
green eyes and half remembered music he finds himself humming.  
dreams of blood and fire and the taste of ash on his tongue.  
some are dark and bloody and he wakes screaming, clawing at his skin in search of scars that never were.  
some are soft and hazy. gentle in their sweetness. he dreams he has a brother. but he has always been an only child.

they pass planets and stars burning brightly. nebula fold around them like the clouds of earth origina.   
Sam does his duties like he always has, gives orders, solves problems. chases the tugging in his empty heart, dragging his ship of fools along with him.

he wakes in the darkness of mid sleep cycle. tears wet on his face like he's never felt them. he can hear the crying now. a deep voice that cries out weakly, like its been full of tears and grief, broken by sobs. the tug in his heart is a river. his intuition whispering _so close, so near now._   
he fumbles for the window port button, watches space open out around him as the shutter clears.  
somewhere out there in the weightless gasses a voice is calling his name.  
he's so near now.

he should be afraid. theres an alien being funnelling into his head, he hears its voice in his waking life. sees it standing bowed with grief before him in his dreams. a man with short hair and green eyes and early 21st century clothes. a thousand year old spectre, haunting him from the emptiness of space.  
“who are you?” he asks the thing. feeling the draw, the tidal wave of energy drawing him towards the thing. “what are you?” he asks.   
_”Sam.”_ it whispers his name like a prayer. like clear water and salvation and sunlight. like the most precious thing in the world. “ _Sam!_ ” the thing falls to its knees and prays, right arm cradled to its chest like a wound.

Sam knows the moment he's come. the weightlessness of zero gravity matched by his mag-boots locked to the hull of his ship. [they’re moving faster then light but space is utterly still. nothing moving around him.] (ship stopped for repairs) no buffeting winds. the illusion of stillness is complete.

he's working on repairs when he sense it. the pull. the ache. the need that drove him into the universe. that made him abandon even his own world.  
he stands still in the silence. stars all around burning clear.   
he stands and looks out into the universe.  
and sees him.  
an angel.  
sam’s breath catches in his throat.  
he's drifting, unexplainable and impossible and utterly beautiful.  
ice frosts his body like glittering crystal. pale face and blue lips and long lashes white with ice. he looks asleep, arms loose and relaxed at his sides.  
he’s bound in nothing but trailing white shrouds that wrap his body and billow around his form like etherial wings.   
Sam watches him drift. the sound of his own heartbeat deafening. straining to reach out and touch this strange unearthly creature.   
he watches the man drift towards him. seeming to fall out of the endless heavens towards Sam.  
he's reaching out before he knows his body moves. arms reaching out to take that limp body in his arms. feelings rushing through him like fire. warmth and familiarity and a thousand feelings filling his chest to bursting. tears falling from his wide open eyes as he stares into the face of the spectre, the angel, the man whose haunted his entire life. leaving him empty and yearning for something so far across the distance of space it was nothing but a whisper in his heart.  
but now its a yell, a scream, his entire body vibrating together again, becoming whole like he's never been, like he can never remember, only ever dreamed.  
 _”Dean!”_   
the name falls from his tongue unbidden and beyond his knowing or control. its the most beautiful thing he's ever tasted.

as soon as he steps through the airlock doors into the artificial gravity the bundle in his arms becomes a burden, weighing him down to his knees.  
in the bright light of the ship his angel is no longer an etherial creature beyond explanation, but a corpse, still and cold. his shrouded wings nothing but pale fabric pooled around his naked body.  
“what the hell is that?!” the others on the airlock deck demand. their captain has just returned with a corpse from the emptiness of space.  
but Sam cant answer them, mesmerized by the man in his arms. the ice already melting on his lashes to reveal their smokey length.  
the only colour on his body is the red scar on the inside of his right forearm.   
Sam cant stop touching. watches mesmerized as the ice under his fingertips melts to reveal smooth white skin and soft freckles.  
the shroud shifts under sam’s searching fingertips and his heart stutters. on the left side of the man’s chest is a black star, ringed in fire. stark against his corpse white skin and frosted grey with a film of ice. but unmistakable. undeniably the same as the one Sam bears on his chest. the one he was born with to guide him to his soulmate.  
around him is chaos, the medics arrive with a stretcher.  
in his arms Sam watches a drop escape from under his angel’s eyelid. watches the tear melt a single track through the frost on his cheek.  
as the medics take away the body to the med bay Sam thinks he's never seen anything so beautiful.

its impossible. it goes against everything science has proven. but the man is alive. human. he stays in a coma for a week.  
Sam tries not to neglect his duties as captain, but to draw himself away from the man is agony.  
his heart is full, whole. for the first time not aching and pulling and cold.  
he smiles, laughs.   
his crew watch him warily.  
Sam waits for his angel to wake up.  
his Dean.

~s~

he's been alone so long. so alone.  
the darkness and emptiness of space stealing everything from him. warmth, sound, light.  
his body becomes his prison. locked around his soul and slowly freezing into stillness.  
no escape. no death.  
just endless nothingness.  
screaming into his head. into the chaos of his own thoughts. fear fades and despair swallows him. boredom and loneliness leave his thoughts spinning into new selves.  
time passes. there are no days here. no way to track time except the turning of the stars.  
he was afraid for a long time.  
time stretched on and madness settled into the loneliness. completely trapped inside his own head he formed worlds, lived lives, decayed. a human mind was not meant to be infinite.   
decades passed unmarked. centuries turned.   
he floated alone in the universe.  
he slept and dreamed of Sam. always Sam.  
little brother, precious. his heart.   
Dean grieves him. becomes aware through the madness at some point that Sam has been dead for years. would be dead. is going to be dead. even Sam cant survive old age.  
his tears freeze.  
all the many deans in his head cry out. they scream and cry and grieve. he runs to the darkest part of his mind and locks himself away.

the universe turns on unheeding. lives lived and time passes.  
in the darkness Dean is awakened by the spark. feels the tie in his chest. senses the pull.   
he knows its Sam. his brother.  
somehow, impossible alive again.  
his mind strained out of his body, reaching across the universe for that spark, desperate to see, to touch his brother, to hear his voice just one more time.  
his voice cries out in the silence of his mind, unheard and unheeded by his brother.  
but Sam comes to him anyways. 

~s~

Sam goes to sit beside his soulmate’s bed every day. hopes, prays, that he will awaken.  
his eyes devour the face of this familiar stranger. he knows every curve, every arch of brow and soft freckle. the way his lashes flutter when he dreams.  
but Sam never dreamed of his scent. filling the small med bay with smells that had been left forgotten on earth origina. Sam has no name for some of them. only faintly remembers the smell of sweet earth under rain, the orange blossoms that grew on the small tree in his families observatory. but others are alien to him. conjure dream memories of fire and the engine of the small black vehicle from his dreams.  
but his scent is an anomaly. completely devoid of markers. not dull like a beta, nor harsh and assertive like an alpha. soft, but not the sweetness of an omega.  
Sam waits impatiently for his mate to waken. he imagines the green of those eyes when they open, drawing that warm body into his bed and wrapping himself around it.  
he wants to claim his mate.

~)|(~

 

Dean awakens to an alien world. all cold white and metal and lights. his body too stiff from stillness to let out more then a soft fearful whimper. he's been in the emptiness so long that the light burns his eyes. terrifies him.   
and then the light is blocked out by a face and his eyes open wide. tears gather and spill hot down his face and his tongue struggles to form sam’s name.  
“Sam! _Sam!_ ” he cries. unashamed. forcing his stiff body to reach out and touch, to confirm the reality of his brother leaning over him.

 

it takes days, weeks, to come to himself. to make himself aware of his surroundings. after so long locked in the darkness of his mind it takes time for Dean to climb out.   
he's aware of being closed in, of white light and Sam. Sam who is strange and doesn’t understand when Dean rambles to him. who holds him close and protective in his arms, whom he awakens to every morning, still too distant from reality to wonder at the strangeness of awakening in his brother’s arms.

it comes to him one day in mid afternoon. the overwhelming clarity and need to see the sun. to stand with his feet in soft earth and tip his face to a warm pale sky.  
and with that desire comes the realization that he doesn’t know how to get out, doesn’t know where he is, what this strange place is.  
the panic rises in him as he moves from the soft couch where Sam left him wrapped in blankets. follows the demand of instinct to run, to search for escape.  
he runs until he can’t breath. when he stops at a wide bay window only the nothingness of his prison opens out on the other side.  
when Sam comes for him he's scratched his nails bloody against the glass.  
“where am I Sam? I want to go home. I want to go home!”  
he wants the bunker and its warm kitchen.  
he wants the Impala with her worn leather and comforting scent of home.  
but most of all he wants Sam.  
Not this cheap imposter who wraps Dean in his arms so he can’t struggle anymore and pressed Dean close until he calms.

 

—-  
Sam doesn't understand. his mate is strange and wild. blank faced and empty eyed or wide awake and frightened. He speaks about things they never did, people he's never known. he screams in his sleep and cries Sam’s name in fear.   
He’s soft and weak and his scent is dull and Sam can't understand his dynamic.   
Can’t understand the way he struggles and pulls away when Sam wraps himself around his mate at night and forces him to sleep.  
He tries to sooth Dean with his scent but Dean can’t smell it. Remains uncomforted.

One day his eyes come clear and he stares at Sam. Looks into the heart of him.  
“Who are you? You’re not my brother, but you feel like him. Who are you?”“I am Sam. I’m the other half of your soul. Your soulmate. See this mark here-?” He opens his shirt to show Dean the five pointed star burning on his chest. “You have this same mark as me. Its a soul mark. It means You’re bound to me, and I’m bound to you. You are my mate. My beloved.”Dean turns his face away from Sam and tells him, “I can’t love you like that. You’re my brother. My baby brother. You should be in heaven living in your happy memories. Besides-“ Dean says, turning to face Sam again with the shadowy ghost of what must have been a deadly smirk. “-I don’t swing that way.”


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> I sat down and wrote 6k words today, which is pretty dang good for me.  
> Honestly, there’s no goals here, starcrossed is a completely self serving fic. You guys asked for more, and the story had more to give, so here it is.  
> Nothing is capitalized, things are misspelled, all mistakes are my own.  
> I’m sorry, I’m lazy.  
> Please enjoy chapter 2 (there will be more)

he spends his days nestled in the bay window of his sleep pod, watching the stars. he struggles with himself. and his environment. and Sam. the strange alien version of his brother who doesn’t know him and never did.  
he struggles with the holographic data interface of the computer that speaks to him in a smooth voice as he explores the virtual imprint of everything that happened since he died.  
but most of all he struggles with the _Others_. the ones who came to him, were created by him, are him, in the darkness and loneliness and the empty of his own trapped consciousness.  
little Sam and big Sam, who whisper encouragement and comfort. and the Demon who wears his own face with a cocky smirk and black eyes and dribbles acid filth and hatred from his mouth. the one he never wants to acknowledge who shakes and whimpers and cries for his brother and bleeds from every part of his body. and worst of all, Her. Trapped behind the bars of his own ribs, whispering to him through the prison of his flesh. Her. his frail human body holding imprisoned a power he can only now begin to guess at after catching her whispers through the cracks in his mind. so much power and darkness his body shakes with it. in his lucid moments he wonders if its even safe for him to be in this little tin can rocket lost in the depths of empty space.  
its noisy in the empty room.  
he’s grown used to their chatter.

the people on the ship are strange. they give him wary looks every time he finds the courage to leave the cabin he’s hidden himself away in.  
he’s standing in front of one of the huge viewing windows in an empty dining lounge contemplating a impossibly vast nebula of green and purple, like beautiful bruises on the night, when Sam finds him.  
he wanted to be an astronaut when he was four.  
who would have thought the stars could be so big.

Sam finds him.  
strange Sam who looks just like his Sam did the last time Dean saw him. sharp eyed and long soft hair that always itched Dean to get the scissors.  
but he dresses in a dove grey uniform that hugs his body, not the homey comfortable flannels that Dean misses. _’I wonder if flannel even exists anymore_ ’ Dean wonders. _‘I want Sam!’_ cries the broken Dean in the back of his mind. _’shut up you stupid bitch. stop snivelling. that thing isn’t Sam. its just an imposter that wants to fuck your pathetic ass.’_ the Demon sneers. Little Sam and big Sam are conspicuously absent whenever this new Sam are in the room.  
its hard to focus.

new Sam. Dean can’t stand to be away from him. he's so much like his Sam. same crooked smile and sparking eyes. same way of moving and dry humour. and Dean hates him. he misses him. and misses Sam. and aches when parted from him. but he hates him when they’re finally together again. hates him for feeling so much like his Sam and yet, not being his Sam.  
he resents the way this Sam comes too close. lets his hands touch and linger and fingers stroke his cheeks. he resents those touches because his Sam never stroked his jaw and pressed their foreheads together like he was precious. he resents it because he craves it, craves as much of Sam as he can get. but its all wrong and he hates it. his Sam never touched him like that. and never would.Broken Dean cries louder from where Dean shoved him to the back of his mind.  
they sit together and Sam tries to explain this new world to him.  
explains that he's the captain.  
the ship they're on is an explorer headed to settle an orbit of planets and moons. Dean forgets the name of those right away. they're not earth, he doesn't care. he just wants to go home to the bunker.  
_’that shithole probably got blown off the face of the planet a thousand years ago. I bet it still had Sammy’s rotted out corpse in there too. how long do you think the bastard managed before he put a bullet in his brain, eh Dean-o?’_ the Demon says meanly.  
_’shut up!’_ Dean tells it.

he's startled back to himself by Sam calling his name and stroking his neck.he can’t help the violent flinch that brings a frown to Sam’s face.  
“why do you do that?” he can’t hide the irritation in his voice. “touch me all the time? stroke my neck?” “Its where your implant should be. I forget you don’t have one. its supposed to sooth you.” Sam explains, his fingers dropping away reluctantly.  
“what implant?” Dean demands, his instincts prickling with unease.  
“we all have them. one in the back of our nose and one here,” Sam presses gentle fingers against the skin behind his ear on his neck.  
“its a system worked out in the early 31st century. to help order society in a way that would prevent more chaos. the implants in our neck produce hormones that help us communicate and the implant in our nasal passage helps us pick up the scent. it helps us know where we stand in a group. who is the leader, Alpha, and who is the follower, the Beta or Omega. it helps us to know who's lying or scared or angry. theres no secrets. its safer that way.” Dean looks at him in horror, hand unconsciously clutched to his neck like that can protect him.he can hear his fathers voice in his head. _’secrets keep us safe.’_  
“can you smell me now?” morbid curiosity forces him to ask.  
he barely suppresses a jump when Sam leans in and buries his nose against the soft skin of Dean’s neck, breathing deep.  
he knows Sam can feel the way he tenses tight as a bowstring, can feel his heartbeat tick up to racing pace under his cheek.  
“you smell faint. soft around the edges. undefined. theres something that reminds me of earth. and the engine room of the ship. and blood. you smell like blood and something hot and bright. god you smell good-“ Sam groans and Dean’s world sharpens down to the feel of Sam’s hot damp tongue laving up the side of his neck. his warning instincts crest to fight or flight and his body lunges away from Sam. the Demon grabs his mouth to yell obscenities at the man who looks like his brother and his hands turn into fists that itch for bloody knuckles.  
“Don’t fucking touch him you sick freak!” his mouth says in the Demon’s low growl.Dean’s struggling for control of his body. everything is noise in his head. the Demon is in control and She is whispering dark suggestions to it. egging it on, encouraging it while Dean struggles for control. the broken part of him getting in the way and screaming. the mark on his arm burns and his whole body shakes.Sam is coming towards him with open palms and a soothing voice.  
he turns around and puts his fist through the wall. he feels his knuckle snap as the bone breaks.  
_’next time I’ll kill him.’_ the Demon says as it settles into the back of his mind to leave Dean standing shell shocked and dripping blood on the white floor.  
_’I want Sam.”_ says the bleeding shadow of himself as it crawls away deeper into his mind.

Dean is numb and quiet, lost in his own mind, as Sam hustles him back to the med bay.

he thinks of the bunker, and the impala, of home and Sam’s smile. the real Sam. who sat shotgun and bitched about his music choices even though he sang along.its all dust now. dust and rust and forgotten.  
he sees it in his minds eye. the bunker caved in, its precious books mouldered to piles of fine dirt and dust. Nothing left of his memory foam mattress. the impala rusted to nothing but flecks and twisted metal and the box of cassette tapes he left under the seat just shattered bits of plastic.  
and Sam.  
Sammy.  
where is he? what happened to his brother? theres no one left but him who even remembers he existed. he’s the only one left with memories.  
he misses home.  
_’I want Sammy!’_ the broken voice inside him cries. and this time, Dean cries with it, the salty burn of his tears like some half assed attempt at purification.


End file.
